Triptych
by Minor Ramblings
Summary: Jean's returned to the Mansion and to Scott, but from late-night thoughts from all three members of the Triangle, it seems that the old status quo just doesn't fit any more.


"Triptych"  
**Author:** Minor Ramblings  
**'Verse:** Post-X2 Scott, Logan and Jean  
**Pairings:** Scott/Jean, future Logan/Jean  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Jean's returned to the Mansion and to Scott, but in late-night thoughts from all three, it seems that the old status quo just doesn't fit any more.

_A/N: Yes, I know I should be working on Last Exit Chapter 5, but first I had finals, then I had writer's block, and now I need to just sit down and write. But, in the meantime, have this little drabble? It occured to me while walking home with some groceries, and wouldn't go away._

She's come back to him, but he knows she won't stay.

He watches her, seeing the changes, feeling her toss and turn in the nights. He smooths out the tangled sheets, and tries to hold her.

She's been through so much, for him, for all of them, surely he can keep her safe through this?

From this?

Away from this?

Keep her safe, keep her the same. Keep her from leaving again. Keep his heart together.

He can see the thing inside her, struggling, like some strange hawk fighting against the jesses that he's crafted to hold it.

He knows they'll fail. The Fearless Leader, he's never been good enough for her, and he knows it. no matter how many times she's told him that isn't true. She chose him, and he doesn't know why. She came back to him, and he doesn't know why either. How could he possibly be worthy of her when he finds himself afraid of her?

Because there are times when she's terrifying now.

She's come back to him, but she knows she won't stay.

She can feel the restlessness within her, hear the singing in her blood in the stillness of the night. She lies awake, feigning sleep and kicking the covers about until she feels his arms settle around her and hold her still. She should feel comforted. 

She feels trapped.

When she dreams, it's of the crushing weight of the water around her, of floating, lost, in an expanse of space within her own mind. Of darkness. Of emptiness.

Then comes the spark, then the fire, and she rises again, soaring, seeking... hunting?

She can feel him slipping away, withdrawing in his self-doubts and his own fear of her. She tries her best not to let him know, not to let him see that she can feel everything about him as they lie together in bed, pretending that she's still the same. So unsure of his own sense of self, he's always been uneasy to have her know it so intimately.

She can feel herself slipping away as well. She's tired of being protected. She's tired of being safe. Thirty is on the horizon, and her life has never been wholly her own.

The gentle dove has become the raptor. The Phoenix. 

And the Phoenix wants to fly.

She's come back to him, but he knows she won't stay.

He can see it in the way they are around each other, how there's a tension to both their shoulders as they embrace. How their sudden turn to sickening amounts of sappy public affection covers a hollow fear in their eyes.

He can smell the change in their scents. His, like an alpha wolf suddenly beaten back to beta status, unsure, tail between his legs and fearful. Hers...

Hers is like a wildfire, surging and powerful, mesmerizing if you're watching for too long, and all wrapped up in the pure sweetness of honey and spice. Intense. Anachronism. 

Dangerous.

He likes dangerous. 

He can hear it through the walls separating their rooms, hear the sliding of the linens as they shift and tangle, hear her turn away from him, hear him shift to draw her in again.

He winces to himself then, knowing that she's got that look on her face, the one that says she's feeling trapped, but doesn't dare let it show. Doesn't dare stop thinking of the man beside her, doesn't dare stop caring for him, even when the idiot can't see how he's driving her away by trying to keep her close.

A falconer doesn't clip the wings of his hawks, but by God the boyscout's trying. But she's too much for him, always has been, and so she's going to fly away.

A falconer lets his bird fly, and waits, knowing they'll come back to his arm to roost before taking off again.

He can wait. Because he knows that once the Phoenix has tested her wings, she'll come back looking for some place to take her ease. Some place without questions or expectations, some place, someone, who doesn't fear her. 

And that it'll be him. 


End file.
